The Blight from the Stars
by Powersocke Prime
Summary: Part IV of the Necromancer Cycle. When a group of scholars started to investigate old legends that had some odd connection to the Ayleid ruin of Malada, they decided to go on an expedition to investigate. Yagir Ferenis, the group's founder, would soon witness a calamity that went beyond all mortal affairs. A catastrophe appears at the horizon, eerily looming, threatening Mundus.
1. Prologue

They have been tricked, deceived by their own god. Originally kindred spirits on the hunt for knowledge and immortality, they've given themselves unto the dark currents in an effort to instill meaning in undeath and grant bliss to those not destined for Aetherius or Oblivion.

Their realm, now bleak and shadowy, used to be altogether quite murky indeed but never maliciously hazed and obscured. They would provide guidance and service to the lost in eternal afterlife, in great hedonism celebrating their existence. But it all came with a price too high for mortal spirits, a price paid in one's own self. And in this deception lies not only a tragic fate for these souls but a prodigious calamity, threatening life itself, for he who has been hidden not only awoke recently - he already chose a host to deal in the mortal affairs he cannot, for his ethereality, quite yet dabble in.

As honourable as their intentions used to be, such grim corruption unfolded over the ages being spent submerged in this malignity, the continuous influx they always sought after being tainted by the circular void that replaced the sun in this dimension. And slowly but surely, their continued existence was consumed by a growing shadow.

It soiled their world, transforming it into what it is today and what people in Mundus came to dread. The malformed, twisted plane was part of a bigger scheme. A plan to raise an army, indefatigable and relentless, devoid of the last vestiges of their former being. For not only did the everdark corrupt them, it corrupted all, even the land, the air, everything. Such is the blight that crept and lurked when all they wanted was to create a safe haven and revel in indefinitely.

The blight contorted their existences until they were ready to step through the gate, being flung into the spacious abyss, crossing the obscuring veil no man or mer, not even the Deep Ones, were able to look through and gaze past, the dense, stellar fog obfuscating their vision quizzaciously when they observed the night sky.

With the combined præternatural energy of thousands of victims of clever deceit, over time an incandescent monolith grew in the deepest recesses of the beyond. A vitreous, prismatic structure quivering with primordial might containing antediluvian evil. An alien force so great as to tear asunder the starry vault once more to send his vassals on a pilgrimage to herald the final days. When the crystalline harbinger reached its peak in perverse, tainted existence, it was cast into the endless nothingness of the Aurbis, spreading its colour among the stars, tinting Nirn's sky in a violet hue on moonless nights devoid of clouds, sparking questions and curiosity in peasants and clerics alike about this queer phenomenon.

So it traveled through emptiness, a glassen coffin with portentous capacity and purport. Held within beings without hearts or minds, half incorporeal apparitions malformed with implacable hatred, unappeasable, insane entities that cannot be reasoned with.

Merely touching one would cause gruesome decay and hearing their wails will drive men mad.

But the mortal realm doesn't know there strides ancient death in space. And in their obliviousness these preposterous, farcical people and absurdly trivial scholars failed to recognize the stupefying implications when the nights turned colourless again, shrugging it off in their ignorance, thereby returning to their daily squabbles and petty affairs.

Importless is their feeble luck as it struck the glistening ruins that would be engulfed and submerged in strange radiance protruding from the luminescent pillar that was cast into the heavens upon impact. One had the misfortune to bear witness to such blasphemy, as the messengers were lying in wait, hidden from the world at large, ready to defile and obliterate.

They will soon hatch, emerging from luminous entombment, to spread the plague that is the Blight from the Stars.


	2. Chapter 1

I

On this bleak day, I write to you my old friend this letter wherein I tell of a matter of utmost urgency that requires your attention. I'm aware I could have written to the venerable Arch Mage or to his majesty the Emperor but the way I see it, I inferred it's best I speak to you for you're most likely the only one who, to my knowledge, has the capabilities necessary to understand the underlying implications of these events and correctly assess the situation, giving it the attention it deserves. Furthermore, I'm certain that what I'm about to relay to you will be heard due to your ties to men and women within the Empire and, of course, more unsavory folk.

I can not stress enough that this is an important matter that cannot wait, the explanation of which will yield answers as to how and why I came to fear the night sky and quench your thirst for knowledge in regards to your inquiry as to my recently developed refusal to leave the house after dusk. The things I've witnessed, both visible and audible, are of the most grave concern, the events that unfolded being of such ghastly purport I almost not dare speak of them as they twist and warp my mind, affright me into not believing half the things I saw and most certainly all the things I felt. But it is my duty to speak up to you pertaining to these happenings, as many valuable people perished in their scientific zeal to bring about this report, and all the information contained therein, that I filed.

It all began a couple of months ago, when a very peculiar starry phenomenon took place in the dark skies after sunset among the stars and the constellations. Everyone, from upstanding citizen to marauder or guardsman all the way up to the scholars and mages of Tamriel, bore witness to the far-off celestial mounds in the heavens changing colour. Over the course of a few days, the skies adopted a purplish tint until, at last, all was tinged in a strong, violet luminescence, embracing the world with a ghostly hue reflecting off bodies of water as well as glass panes, armours and mountains everywhere, granting the nights during this strange period a nightmarish quality of uncanny uneasiness.

However, after months of arcane research, which I myself also partook in for my general scientific inquisitiveness as I'm sure you're well aware, yielding no results whatsoever, the brightly shining colour that would bathe the horizons in such queer incandescence and almost seemed like it soiled the very space among and around Mundus, suddenly dissipated.

Just like that. You know, I'm a scholar in the field of Ayleid language and culture, knowing next to nothing about arcane astronomy, but even so I just had a sense of something being off which worried me greatly. I couldn't place that feeling but something appeared to stir inside me as I suspected this phenomenon held secrets that needed uncovering, yet I knew not where to start digging. But I was completely unknowing towards the fact that I should get an opportunity to do just that very soon.

Now, what follows is also for the majority of the information contained within the original notes we took and that I attached to this letter, compiled by me and my associates. But I feel it doesn't convey the terrors our group experienced over all those arduous days of research. What you're about to read might sound like the ravings of a madman but I beseech you to see it through to the end for the fate of the world might be at stake. For the past fifteen years you've been my ally, always there when I needed you most. So I implore you to trust me as well on this.

On the 20th of Sun's Dawn this year, 4E208, me and a few closely related colleagues planned on conducting research in regards to Ayleid history and culture whereby we agreed upon venturing to the ruins of Malada. It is situated betwixt the Collapsed Mine and Arrowshaft Cavern that lie to the southeast and the Abandoned Mine to the northeast. Northwest of it lies Lost Boy Cavern near Lake Canulus when you take the Yellow Road from Leyawiin and follow it, crossing the bridge leading over the Panther River and then about halfway towards the Silverfish River. Make a sharp right in the direction of the Nibenay Valley and travel past Bedrock Break. Soon, Fort Cuptor should come into view and if you circumvent it and the adjacent lake on the right hand side, you will soon find yourself at the ruins of Malada.

Me and my associates who were presently residing in the Five Claws Lodge in Leyawiin, avidly studying the Legend of the Black Child who was said to have escaped from the Leyawiin Dungeons about 71 years prior, found during our investigations into the matter some really quite peculiar connections to said legend and Ayleid myths of old. We collectively raised our eyebrows at the notion of a very obscure link between these myths, the legend and the Calamity of Winterhold that took place in 4E139.

At some point during our research, my closest friend among our squad of scientists, Lilisephona, an Altmer of staggering beauty and unparalleled wit in the field of old Ayleidoon magic, stumbled upon the name 'Malada' mentioned in antediluvian legendry as some sort of gate or entryway for an unheard of deity of which the name has just slipped my mind. And so, Horace Whitebeard, a stout Nord whom I met in Skyrim during the civil war and persuaded him to travel to Cyrodiil with me in quest of less violent pursuits, proposed we travel there, scraping together rations and tents, soul gems and firewood to set up camp near the ruins when we get there.

Our slightly shady Dunmer friend, Azarain Helath, shut his books in agreement and joined Horace in providing necessary sustenance for the days to come. The two of them were both quite well versed when it came to Ayleid architecture and met during an expedition to one of the many ruins in the Heartland. Our Redguard swordswoman Ravaia, who was a close friend of Lilisephona's and accompanied our every journey saving our hides more than once, proclaimed to go and fetch some fresh weaponry and get her armour repaired before the joint venture began, asking if Lilisephona was also on board to roam the town with her and chat about this or that to which Lili agreed, grabbing each and every book on the topic she could find and wait together with Ravaia on the rest so we could start our pilgrimage the next morning.

They all started to leave when Azarain turned around just before he touched the entrance door to the lodge and asked me how I'm gonna prepare myself. As impatient a fellow as I am, I told the already scattering group I'd travel to the ruins immediately, getting a grasp on the situation, waiting inside the ruins for my friends. Lili and the others shook their heads in disbelief, trying to deter me but I had this queer feeling that I must go right that instant. In an effort to ease their minds I reminded them that I'm not only a scholar but a decent destruction mage as well. Besides, I added, I can read Ayleidoon so they needn't worry about me not knowing where the lavatory was. After a cheerful, albeit brief, laugh, my friends finally complied but would reiterate their concerns in regards to my lone venture. After all was set and everybody busy prepping, I set out to travel to those ruins to see what I might find.

While everybody was busy getting out of the lodge onto the open streets I followed them, waving them all goodbye watching how they disappeared into the streets and nearby shops. Without much stalling and even missing to buy any provisions for the road I went straight for the city gates. I knew my friends would arrive in due time so I wasn't worried about hunger or thirst. Also, I didn't need weapons anyway for my destruction magic should ward off any who might assault me.

I remembered past adventures I had with Lili and how she taught me everything I knew about offensive spells. I met her a couple of years ago during the dragon crisis of Skyrim in 4E201. She used to be a Thalmor agent, believe it or not, and on a very special day, when I went on a pilgrimage to the Throat of the World, I came across her who just descended (and as it later turned out just came back from a mission involving questioning of the Greybeards).

To our surprise, we heard a loud thunderclap just when we were about to walk past each other. We looked up into the sky and saw a person fly off the top of the mountain with rapid speed. They quickly fell down and we would hear a nasty explosive splashing sound as they hit the ground. I recall that moment clear as day when our gazes met in utter shock. We went up the serpentine, snowed in roads as fast as we could but who or what caused that strange display of force vanished.

On our descent we fired up a conversation and thereby discovered our shared interest in the old and antique. About a year later she found me in an inn, somewhere in Solitude I believe, and told me she defected from the Thalmor. For her safety, she hired a sellsword by the name of Ravaia who we would come to befriend later. By that time I've already met Horace and Azarain and so the five of us headed straight for Cyrodiil. And now, after a couple of years in which we've grown very attached to each other, we decided to investigate a legendary myth that perhaps had the power to change the world.

And I spearheaded the operation by traveling to the ruins first. The journey itself was fairly uneventful, thank the Divines. The only minor problem I encountered was a pack of wolves, six or seven if I recall correctly, that closed in on me shortly after I crossed the river heading towards the Nibenay Valley. However I managed to scare them into flight after I've lit their tails on fire with a few well-placed fireballs and dispersed the remaining stragglers by usage of lightning strikes, forcing them back into the woods whence they came.

From that point forward, the rest of the way was quickly traversed and after I passed by the old fort and lake I could see the looming ruins of Malada come into view. It was already dusk when I arrived. The darkening horizon accentuated the majestic central pillar of the overgrown structure as it cast weirdly undulating shadows in the distance. And before long, the last bit of sunlight faded, giving way to a clear, starlit vault.

As I have enunciated before, during the preceding weeks the night sky was dyed in alien lavender hues. But on this particular night, in the small hours, I observed the purple tint vanish from the stars little by little until, at last, all was devoid of colour again. The moon rose in bright opalescence illuminating the lucid brickwork of the ancient remains of the Ayleid tomb in a display of magical beauty. I was awestruck at the bloom of the scenery so I stopped for a moment, a few meters short of the ruins' premises and soaked it all in with deep breaths and wide eyes.

Something spectacular manifested itself right that instant. Myriads of tiny, glistening, wisp-like lights began to materialize themselves around the column in a joyous dance, swirling and twirling around it in an upwards spiral emitting a pale radiance that enveloped the area. As if these things were animate, they danced and shifted, flew and hovered, intertwining with one another. In their stunning waltz of ethereality they moved up. Up towards the white pillar's tip, seemingly waiting on something. And in but a heartbeat's time, I would come to know what that something was.

II

Out of nowhere, the whole landscape was swallowed by a violet luminosity, the grass swaying in a præternatural gale while the trees bent, to my astonishment, _away_ from the ruins. No animals could be seen or heard. No birds chirping, no predatory quadrupeds roaming about, nothing. Inadvertently, I looked up into the fluorescent heavens bearing witness to a glowing stone that fell from the skies. With primordial force it crashed into the pillar, thereby completely obliterating the surrounding walls and paved paths of the structure in an unrelenting blastwave that sent me flying into the mud and dirt.

I caught myself thinking: "By the Divines, what had just happened?" I had some trouble in pushing myself up from the filthy ground again, but with both hands I eventually managed. In looking up, I beheld an even more bizarre phenomenon before I could rise to my feet properly. Out of the impact crater suddenly burst an extraneous beam of light in a colour I have severe trouble describing. I cannot, to this very day, ascertain whether or not it was radiating blue, purple or black, if it was casting light or seeping darkness. All I know is it spread the most uncanny emotions throughout my whole body as I watched this strange anomaly stretch into the obscure cosmos above.

I was still on all fours when I observed it dissipate. All that's left was a seriously damaged ruin and a luminous mound sitting at its center where there used to be sparkly wisps dancing just a moment ago. I sprang up and couldn't help but hurry towards the freshly formed hole after midnight and be the first to gaze upon this celestial messenger of untold secrets. I believed, then, that this would herald unprecedented advances in arcane science. Though had I just known what it was, I would've never come near it even slightly. For as will be apparent later, I had my fair share of improbable luck during the oncoming days.

As I approached the steaming earthly orifice, I felt a peculiar vibration in the agitated air emanating from it, hinting at copious amounts of magical energy present. The paved road, now brittle and in great disarray, proved hard to traverse after the ensuing quake threw the ground into chaos. Although my curiosity was sparked by a fascination never before felt, at the same time an unseen power tried to dissuade me, guide me away from this vilely lit place.

Notwithstanding these quirky emotions I proceeded towards the extraterrestrial entryway and beheld a thing I can only describe as wholly alien to Nirn. By shoving away large numbers of cracked and broken debris, I spied into the crater, viewing what had just manifested itself in those murky depths below. A brightly scintillating crystalline structure of prodigious size bored into the solid earth and stone, now resting among the graves of long dead Ayleids in their cold and forgotten entombments. All was filled with a faint haze of extraordinary shade with bits and pieces of the gigantic gem lying about, shrapnelled into the walls and floor upon impact.

I spotted the now caved-in entryway to the ages old mausoleum and secretly cursed myself for not bringing a tent in advance. Then however, who would've thought a stone from the heavens would destroy it so? My only way in was the gaping mound stretching about five meters to either side forming a circular crater that yawned in the darkness of the nocturnal hour. I closely inspected the edges and the surrounding array of stray stones and rigid dust in an effort to find a safe way in and out the rocky mouth.

After all, I needed at least some sort of shelter. So I took to surveying the chaos and experimented about. After a few failed attempts whereunto the soil gave way and cascaded down the darkly lit hole, almost making me plunge to my death, I finally found a downward path solid enough to tread on. I swiftly went down in anticipation and excitement, dying to know what the strange meteor truly was.

On my descent, I carefully climbed down the unorderly lying and hanging stones and finely ground parts of ancient bricks, meticulously taking note of where I'd be able to climb up again when my friends would arrive on the next day.

Upon reaching the foul smelling base, without a doubt stemming from eras old decay and foetor within these halls, I was very fastidious not to touch the vitreous thing from the stars. I concluded it's best to get some first looks and early assessments before my associates would arrive and we'd work on the curious object then. Too often did I break something on accident before the others appeared so I kept my hands to myself this time. And in retrospect, I did good in not touching it.

I stood right next to it when I felt something I can only hardly put into words. Something that may have averted less inquisitive folk than myself. Even now I can only scarcely describe it. It was as if a strange vibrational energy, almost musical, entered my bloodstream and made my blood boil in rebellion against whatever it was being so close to me. To my dismay I misinterpreted this warning as a sign of pure energy, even if in great quantity.

Immediately, I produced from my pouch ink, quill and a few sheets of blank paper I've grown accustomed to always have at hand. I started noting down my first observations. The first thing I noticed apart from its inherent luminescence was its sheer size. It was about five meters wide and seven meters high and quite humongous when one stood before it. The obelisk was of hexagonal shape, stretching to a cone upwards, like a teardrop with corners, essentially.

The six sides and the general surface seemed to be finely cut like one would do with precious gems or baubles, giving it a slightly artificial quality. Furthermore, the monolith's surface looked as if polished so that I could observe my likeness being mirrored in its pristinely glassen grandeur. Inspecting it more closely, I witnessed the giant prismatic structure pulsate slightly every few seconds. I asked myself how grand the power contained within must be to move a solid thing in this manner. By squinting my eyes to stare directly into it, I saw a dark spot in its center that is blotted out by its radiance when observed from afar.

I took notes and wrote down these preliminary findings and proceeded to survey my immediate surroundings. A heap of stray, glowing crystals lay about the floor in this burial chamber I so clumsily crept inside of, illuminating the entire room. I found myself among tombs of long dead merish ancestry, amidst were scattered these strangely lit shards. I restrained myself from touching them, though I found it very enticing. They could just go in my pocket and I could study them when we get home. But no, I was intent on waiting for my kindred spirits to arrive the next day. To my fortune, not every wall has caved in after the ruin being hit and so I peeked at an exit hallway leading deeper into the tenebrous halls below.

Now, I didn't intend on venturing out into the mist-covered, foul, murky depths too far. Just enough so that I could find a sufficient amount of ragged cloth, linen wraps and discarded fibers by bygone adventurers that I could fashion into some poor form of a makeshift bedroll. And indeed, after striding through about two corridors and three smaller chambers without incident, I found just enough fabric to lay out on the floor near the crater. I laid down and was able to bed myself relatively softly on the dilapidated stone floor next to the brooding crystal under the opening I came in from.

I remember the damp, malodorous quality of my bedsheets clear as a crisp spring morning. It troubled my sleep greatly with its olfactory assault. In due time, my eyes grew too heavy for even the most pungent of odors and so, I started dozing off into a dreamless sleep. I was completely oblivious, then, as to what kind of danger I put myself in that night. Just to make sure, I partly opened my eye once more to scan the room for irregularities before all went black and in my almost fatal ignorance, I rested.


	3. Chapter 2

III

I awoke to the cries of my fellows by noon of the next day. Lili's voice was the first I heard. Then followed Horace and Ravaia, Azarain joining in shortly after. "Yagir!" I could hear them holler. "Yagir! Where are you?!" Horace's voice echoed across the open landscape. At first I was under the impression of being in a dream world. As I opened my eyes, a most staggering sight revealed itself to me. It appeared as though I was suddenly teleported into a crystal cave!

Everywhere around me sprouted prismatic appendages from the walls and floor in different colours, seemingly transforming and taking over the room I laid myself to rest in earlier. So much so that even my coarsely sewn-together bedroll started morphing into a solid mat at its edges and corners, with little shards of the colourful growth everywhere. I quickly rose up to my feet, surveying my surroundings. Where there had been a blank and mossy brick wall before, to my left there now stood a sparkling mural of white, blue, red, green, yellow, teal and purple beauty with little spiky, sharp looking gems protruding from it. Gazing to my right I espied a mosaic of stained glass coffins emitting a gay shine in their beauteousness. The floor to my feet, not completely overrun by whatever versicolor coating all this was, twinkled enjoyably, casting lovely shadows at the remains of the partly broken ceiling.

As if in a trance I marvelled at this pulchritudinous display of otherworldly elegancy. I noticed not how close my boots were to the foreign substance but I was swiftly flung into present reality once more by Lili's voice yelling behind me: "Yagir! By the Nine! Are you okay? And what is all this?". I turned around and looked up, seeing the party of four blocking the sun's rays providing me with shadow so I didn't have to squint. All of them stood there in absolute awe at the look of the vitreous caverns I was situated in. And by extension, at the opalescent, gargantuan jewel that had also started giving off various colours as opposed to the night it so brutally crash landed. I responded to my friends, enunciating what had transpired the night before. How a surreal force presented itself to control the adjacent flora and fauna. How the wisps danced. And how the thing from above struck the area after which a pillar of extraneous radiance shot up. And, of course, I told them of my first observations I had made, iterating how I myself was surprised as to the interesting developments that had unfolded over night. Recalling whence I climbed in from, I rapidly ascended the debris-filled cave in whereby I knocked over some protrusions in the fractals of the stony brick floor.

Being above ground again I proceeded to greet my peers with a solid handshake. Lili then started speaking of how the four of them observed an almost indescribable light they spotted from the lodge in Leyawiin and their worries about my well being. They knew the ruins lay in this general direction. Albeit I got thrown around by the blastwave the impact created, I told them, I was fine nonetheless.

After this little chit-chat and Ravaia chastising me on having traveled alone yet again, I gave them my notes I had made that night. Lili, Horace and Azarain studied the pages avidly before proclaiming it's high time we set up camp for our base of operations. As it presently was, we would have much more to do than we previously expected.

We proceeded to build up the different tents my friends brought. First, we set up the big tent in which we'd examine and study specimens taken from the ruins. While Horace and I built this one under Lili's guidance, Azarain and Ravaia started constructing the four smaller tents. Three of them would be used for sleeping in. One for me, one for Horace and Azarain and one for Ravaia and Lilisephona. The last tent would be used as a crude infirmary in case someone contracts disease or injury. You can never be too sure when dungeon delving so it always helps to have some medicinal herbs and some basic alchemical equipment along with a spare cot at hand. Our group also rented some horses to aid in the transport of our wares. After we were done building our shelter, we unloaded our supplies from the six horses my friends brought along. Let me reiterate: you can never be too sure.

Furthermore, our 'better-safe-than-sorry' kind of attitude has saved us in the past. I remember a venture from way back into some cave that was supposed to contain some antediluvian relic of sorts. At one point, the pathways fell to ruin preventing passage in or out those vaults. But Horace was careful enough to carry a pair of pickaxes with him. At the start of our journey we mocked him for that but considered it a boon when we actually needed to dig ourselves out of the solid earth. Needless to say we failed in retrieving said relic but at least we all survived.

Ever since, we always keep a list with us containing notes on crucial supplies. And what can I say? The pickaxes are listed, too. We carried the copious amounts of provisions, tools and collapsible furnishings, mostly stools and two small tables, off the horses and placed it all in our linen-roofed safe holds. When everything was done and all items put into place we took our horses in an effort to tie them to a pole we hammered into the ground by the camp. We cleverly placed our camp near the now colourfully illuminated cave-mouth, so naturally, the steeds and mares had to be brought near it as well.

However, when we approached the site, the horses started going crazy. They jumped and tore at the ropes we used to hold them with, neighing ferociously in denial at the hole's precipice. One kicked Azarain in the chest with its hind legs before disbanding from the herd, driving him into the mud. The others we could keep under control no longer, so we let go of the leashes to avoid getting hurt like poor Azarain had. The animals fled at once, disappearing into the distance in the warm midday sun. We were collectively baffled by such fright when it dawned on us that curiously, the whole area appeared to be vacant of fauna. We did not really have the time to ponder on this quite astounding fact too deeply since we were busy taking care of Azarain as we hurled restoration spells at him from the distance. He swiftly got up again and after thanking us, sported an inquisitive look on his face asking the question we've all been thinking. "What the hell was that?".

In utter bafflement we surveyed the area and indeed, not a living thing could be seen or heard. No wolves or hares, no falcons or even insects. Even the plants seemed to _bend away_ from the crater. I took to explaining this odd detail away by the shockwave that happened, but weird it was regardless. "Gone are the horses. Great." remarked Horace in disappointment.

Reassuringly, Lili told him with a sharp tongue that, should come our investigations with more peril and destruction, we wouldn't have to carry all these materials back anyway. Horace shot her a mocking look and went back to his tent, puffing his cheeks. We all did the same to retrieve food, firewood and some stones to prepare a campfire at which we would eat.

While our group waited on evening to come upon us, we all met inside the big tent to discuss our next steps. We've been working together for years so the operation didn't take much planning. Azarain proposed we'd fashion a rope ladder first to then safely descend into the gay lit cavern, collecting samples for further studies. Horace munched a piece of bread in agreement, adding that the pickaxes should come in handy. In response, Lilisephona remarked it'd be best we wear protective gloves since the crystalline substance had some sharp tips and edges and we wouldn't want to put the infirmary to use too soon. All nodded and were content with the plan thus far.

I then spoke up and proclaimed that, while the other two were digging, I'd investigate deeper into the haunting ruins for any clues that might help us understand what's going on. Lili gave me her okay in this respect and suggested she'd stay in the camp together with Ravaia to guard the premises and coordinate our undertakings.

We all approved in unison and lifted our mugs in acquiescence. After the awkward silence that ensues when everybody present is drinking at the same time, we noticed the sky darken and headed out to light our fire.

As the flames reflected off our eyes by nightfall, we cooked up some venison stew to keep us fed. Grey smoke rose up from the smouldering logs we set ablaze and the smell of freshly cooked meat and charred wood filled the surprisingly stale air around us. While we sat circumjacent to the fire, we told each other stories from the past.

Ravaia recounted a very peculiar client from her time as a sellsword a couple years back. Apparently, the guy was a retired hunter living in a small shack in the Rift woods in Skyrim. For some inexplicable reason he dared not tell, he had an intense fear of caves so he sought Ravaia's help in retrieving some rare herbs from Snapleg Cave betwixt Nilheim to the west and the Rift Watchtower to the southeast. Ravaia could remember his name not, but vividly recalled how shaky and bathed in sweat he was when she entered the cave to fetch the precious greens. Upon successful retrieval and delivery, the client awarded her a surprisingly large amount of coin and hastily disappeared into the forest. "I'm still confused to this day", she then commented. She lifted up her mug and took a gulp of warm mead.

Lili and I then told of our tale in respect to our first meeting at the Throat of the World to which Horace responded by raising one eyebrow. We looked at each other in puzzlement when he finally explained that he was on his way patrolling the roads around Ivarstead with his fellow Stormcloaks when he witnessed someone falling down, getting completely obliterated on impact. Surprised, we all burst into laughter at the notion of how close we actually were to each other.

Azarain had nothing to tell, shrouding himself in mystery as always. He never was too talkative and he never really told us anything from his past. Only that he fled from Morrowind after Red Mountain plunged the province into chaos. For years he had been stranded in Raven Rock on Solstheim mining for ebony until he at last earned enough septims to afford passage to Skyrim's mainland to start his life anew. The only thing he added to the conversation was that he was grateful to have met such amazing companions such as us. He raised his mazte in our honors and drank from it with deep swallows.

Before long, we finished eating our soup and grew tired. It was then time to appoint who'll stand guard during the night. I volunteered and chose Horace for the first half. He agreed silently and so, we put out the fire and got ready to sleep. We sought our tents while Horace stood guard for the first few hours. We all consented upon waking Ravaia and Lili when dawn came so they could prepare the operations while I was able to get a few more hours of rest. I crawled into my bedroll, happy about it being a proper one and not whatever murky thing I fashioned the night before. I briefly wondered if it had been engulfed by those crystals by then as I watched Horace extinguish the fire.

Then all was dark. Only the brilliance of the cavity a few meters away shone lightly through the linen cloth of the tent's fabric.

IV

A cracking noise in the dark. A howl of unnatural origin echoing through the halls. A high pitched screeching surfaced from the shadows. I felt some entity grab my shoulder and call my name. "Yagir!" time and again. An invisible force rattled and shook, swaying me back and forth. I awoke. Horace's face stared down on me.

"Wake up!" he whispered sharply, motioning me out of the tent. Of course, the nightly watch. I quickly got my bearings and crawled out. 'What a strange dream' I thought. I watched as Horace retreated into his shelter and waved at me. Then my glance shifted involuntarily to the glowing aperture in the distance. Keeping watch is important. That shining nozzle in the ground there might attract unwanted attention after all. I headed towards the tent where we stored our most crucial belongings in and from it I produced one of the foldable stools they brought. I set it up between our base and the vitreous dissemination of emptiness to get a good glance over the still forsaken landscape and the ruins. Thereby I wondered how Horace even managed to stay awake without one of these wooden seats. Has he been standing this entire time? "Crazy people" I silently mumbled to myself in disbelief.

For hours I sat there unmoving, observing the colourful beams of light, watching as dark clouds flew by in a very much peaceful atmosphere. I started closing my eyes and meditating, in- and exhaling deeply, achieving an almost trance-like state. I didn't bother with thoughts of a raid or malicious wildlife. After all, living things seemed to avoid this place for some reason.

This meditation went on for several minutes until a noisome crack broke the silence in the dead of night. Disturbed, I opened my eyes. I assumed it came from the Malada ruins. Did something damage the crystals, perhaps? Maybe it was a bit of broken brickwork tumbling down the mound? I readied a fireball in anxiety as I approached the gaping light source. Slowly but in a steady pace I drew closer to it, a growing feeling of repulsion accompanying my every step.

_Crack_! I fancied something just hit the ground down there. Bigger than mere debris. I was intrigued, yet frightened as to what it might be, causing this breaking of a hitherto serene silence.

Just a few steps more. It was as if an ill gust flew through the burial chamber. At the roughly composed ledge I looked down into the iridescent abyss, utter darkness behind me. I could barely make out the camp in the shadows despite it being so near. I inspected the crash site, looking closely for any sign of heretofore unseen life in the luminous mists. After a while, I concluded there wasn't anything there and my mind, at unrest about the implications of something - anything - being down there, playing tricks on me.

Just as I went to turn around, I thought I saw a shadow moving in the damp, undulating swarthiness of the caverns below. I batted my eyelids several times in response to something I deemed impossible as of yet. The shade appeared to be gone. I returned to my seat, shrugging it off as a mirage. A figment of my imagination. Clever trickery devised by my fear of the unknown and unseen. My elevated heart rate slowed down and I felt moderately at ease again. Although I couldn't shake off the impression that what I thought I fancied seeing was real, I didn't pay any more attention to it. After all, a mind at unrest is a mind without proper focus and concentration. And I knew I needed both for what's to come.

The rest of the night was blissfully uneventful, downright boring to some extent. I watched the distant horizon setting itself aflame in the rising morning light. I folded the stool and brought it back to the great tent before waking Lili and Ravaia. In doing this it dawned on me that Horace must've done it the same way and with a slightly embarrassed "Oooh" I proceeded to Lili's tent.

I woke her gently by stroking her cheeks. Ravaia immediately grabbed my wrist in response and held it in a tight grip as she looked at me. She then shyly apologized, remarking that one could never be careful enough. As she withdrew her hand a slight hematoma formed on my pale skin. Ravaia poked Lili in the face to which she grumpily woke, complaining that this "had to stop or else".

Ravaia and I both chuckled at Lili's mood and I was subsequently relieved of guard duty, free to take a nap before we'd start to uncover the secrets of this celestial stone.

"Do you like that, eh?" were the first words I heard that morning while simultaneously being poked in the face with a wooden stick.

Apparently, Lili took our snickering a few hours ago much more seriously than Ravaia and I thought. She beckoned me to get up so that I don't miss the meeting by which goals were established and tasks assigned. I dressed myself and clumsily rolled out into the open. The morning sun blinded my vision under the clear sky as I laid on my back for several seconds. In hazy puzzlement I got up and staggered towards the unlit fireplace passing it by, sniffing the odor of cold ash and burnt wood.

I entered the big tent and was greeted by my friends who stood around a table waiting for me. I never was a morning person, anyway.

Lili spoke up, placing her long, golden hair behind her back making it fall off her blue robe. She once again went over what we had discussed yesterday, reiterating on what had been planned and adding to that list some other tasks.

Specifically, I was to investigate the ruins and note down anything suspicious I could find whereas Horace and Azarain were to collect and surface any gem fragments they'd uncover, careful not to break anything in the process. When they were done they got assigned to gather more firewood while Lili coordinated it all. Ravaia was to stay in the camp in case she needed to defend herself, Lili and our goods from raiders or hostile wildlife. In between all this, Lili would brew some potions and concoct a few remedies for anyone who got hurt or contracted a sickness.

The part about getting hurt she said with an annoyed tone in her voice looking at me in a scolding manner pertaining to my general clumsiness. We all nodded in agreement and proceeded to have some breakfast before our work began. Then we all got ourselves ready for the tasks at hand that should keep us occupied for the entirety of the day. I prepared by packing a pickaxe (just in case), a steel dagger, two red and three blue potions (for life force replenishment and magicka rejuvenation, respectively), some food and water as well as my trusty quill, ink and paper.

The three of us, Horace, Azarain and myself, wandered towards the ever sparkling mound together. Horace had during his night shift constructed a rope ladder from spare rope and leftover logs. We anchored the ladder with two big iron nails driven into the ground and threw it down the ledge. To our amazement, the chamber seemed much more alight than conceived previously and my makeshift bedroll was also gone.

Notwithstanding these odd occurrences, we climbed down the ladder. On the way down I noticed one colour missing from the obelisk and a small crack seemed to have appeared on one of its six sides.


	4. Chapter 3

V

The three of us safely descended the crudely constructed rope ladder down into the mound. The rope creaked and the rungs bent under our weight but the ladder held fast. Upon reaching the hole's base that led deeper into the dank ruins we collectively noticed that something was off. Not only was the great gem in the center missing a colour - white -, and a noticeable crack appeared to have formed on one of its six sides overnight. Horace, Azarain and I also widened our eyes as we beheld the hitherto undisturbed, ancient entombments of the Ayleids of old.

Where there had been a gay crystal overgrowth just one day prior we now gazed into broken, hollow coffins that looked like very small, vitrified caverns themselves. It appeared as if something from the graves' _inside_ had pushed against the solid stone of the sarcophagi, judging from the way the cracks and loosened bricks were formed and how the debris lay on the floor next to them. Moreover, peering into the small cavities that no doubt must have developed last night, we could observe how the glowy substance had seemingly 'infested' the brickwork.

Whatever foreign material this was, it became apparent that it did much more than merely coat the surfaces of its surrounding areas. This also explained what happened to my makeshift bedroll I have sewn together two nights before. It got assimilated, transformed into this alien matter. Our group agreed that this newly discovered effect it had on inanimate objects was highly concerning. The only thing that eased our minds was our assumption that it could not transmogrify living tissue. We were convinced the growth would come to a halt as soon as it struck the soil, a plant or another organism.

And yet, this did not tell us why the graves were empty. I inferred that after such a long time, even the last remnants of the Hidden Elves' bodies must have vanished. Besides, I added, there was no telling as to how many times Malada had been raided or how many necromancers have stolen the corpses for their twisted understandings of eternal servitude.

Both Horace and Azarain seemed content with this explanation. Notwithstanding that I was the one to propose such conclusions, I could not help but sense some deeper meaning behind this foreboding happenstance. As if my subconscious eagerly hid from me a most dissuading truth it already guessed at. Was all of this the product of mere coincidence? Or did something of more sinister quality initiate an oncoming disaster?

Paying no heed to my cogitations and the generally uncanny vibe those recent developments brought upon us we proceeded with our assigned tasks.

I was just on my way down the dimly lit hallway into the murky crypt when I noticed that the floor I was standing on had been completely overrun by the sparkling protrusions. The longer I stared at the ground surrounding my feet in its shiny grandeur, the more I imagined it writhing and shifting somewhat. I shrugged it off as a mirage I attributed to all the different refractions of the prismatic substance. Suddenly I heard an audible whack of something that just fell on the floor, accompanied by two shocked gasps. I turned around to face my discombobulated companions.

Peeking just behind them I fancied I saw some sort of geode jutting out of the luminescent crystal surface. I then realized in utter bafflement that in truth, Azarain had hacked into the adjacent wall using his pickaxe, causing a small, glassy boulder to tumble from it, revealing that, indeed, the entire masonry had been taken over by this otherworldly radiance. "What, by Shor's beard, is this stuff?" I heard Horace questioningly exclaim, breathless as he was at this unusual sight.

Donning our protective gloves we dared touch it for the first time. I grabbed a handful of versicolor shards, beholding their alien beauty.

Shockingly, my sense of touch unmistakably told me that the bits and pieces I just picked up started moving! I threw them away, unable to contain a high pitched shriek. My friends followed my example, sporting a most disgusted frown on their faces. Just what was all this? How did it work? And where did it come from, for what purpose? Even though we were filled with unprecedented repulsion at the premise of some alive, inorganic material, we knew we had to carry on. To uncover its secrets and solve its mysteries was our task and, by extension, find a way to put it to a halt. We began to ask ourselves: what if it _didn't_ stop at organic matter? And if so, the implications were unthinkable!

Determined to finally shed some light on its obscurity, Horace and Azarain started collecting samples to give to Lili for further studies. I, on the other hand, made my way towards the brooding darkness in the bowels of this forgotten place.

VI

Saluting my two colleagues who were busy collecting samples and examining the utterly warped architecture, I followed the foetid, ages old stench into the ruins proper. The sparkly coating had at that point advanced somewhat into the corridor that led to the other chambers which I gathered the cloth in previously.

As dangerous as such ruins usually were, from my explorations I knew these first couple of chambers were safe from any traps. Little pieces of shiny rubble were sent flying through the stale air as I advanced further into this cold and humid mausoleum. I left the festering crystals behind soon.

I will bore you not with detailing the bulk of my delvings that day. Suffice it to say that I've slowly and carefully traversed many dimly lit hallways, corridors and chambers whereby I evaded innumerable cruel machinations, possessed by misintent. In one particular instance I was almost flung into a bottomless pit when the floor of one of the rooms suddenly gave way and I only just made it to the other side. Of course there was a path that did not tumble but to my misfortune I didn't cross that one.

This wasn't my first exploration of an Ayleid ruin, mind you. One must be aware of the immediate surroundings every step of the way. For ancient traps lie in wait, preying on negligent and unheeding adventurers. Even after all this time they still perform their duty with cold precision.

Make no mistake, I was quite seasoned in the practice of dungeoneering. But even so I was always intensely constricted when it came to burial sites such as these. There was always this lingering feeling. The awareness that the slightest lapse in concentration, the least bit of inadvertence, could spell injury - or death.

Soon enough, in the distance I espied a faintly illuminated, cyclopean quadrangular door at the far end of a narrow corridor. I realized that, the further I went, the darker it got. So with utmost caution but also perseverance, I approached this looming gate.

These narrow, finely cut ways were the most dangerous. Long, shadowy and nowhere to run in the event of a deadly mechanism going off. The walls to my left and right could be filled to the brim with foul invention. So I surveyed the area for any triggers, my heart pounding nervously in gruesome anticipation of impending doom. At any moment I expected to be surprised by a click that heralded untold agony. Just a few more steps.

While I was not worried two days ago for the adjacent chambers' inconspicuousness, I now was muscle-achingly tense crouching along this passage. As my brown robe slowly started to go damp, I at last reached the entryway that indubitably led me into the recesses of these antediluvian vaults. Mossy as it was in its stained crookedness, casting a pale teal radiance from its central light circle accentuated by a beauteous floral design. I had nowhere else to go. All other passageways turned out to be dead ends and I haven't found any clues yet.

I felt relieved, the way back reassuringly much easier to traverse now. The path was safe. I inhaled deeply and even though the musty air that filled my lungs prompted a deterring nausea, I pressed on regardless. I had a mission to accomplish, after all. I gently placed my hand on the ancient stone gate, causing it to slide open with a lot of malodorous dust floating about. It revealed a downwards staircase leading into the darkness below. It appeared as if there was next to no light down there.

Hesitatingly I advanced. Alas, inattentive in my naïve impression of safety, I crossed the threshold, immediately sinking a couple of inches into the ground.

A pressure plate! My mind, flooded with panic and festering fear, raced as I turned around, anticipating a projectile to strike my chest or an axe to slice me in two. But worse. Despondently I beheld a rusty gate sealing the exit that I, now more than ever, craved. In despair I knelt before it, hammering against the cold metal. My shouts and pleas for help lost themselves in the maze-like caverns. I've been trapped among the dead.

VII

For a moment, I just sat there before the gate. The encroaching void seemingly devouring everything around me. Hope and courage were null, determination lost, the will to press on gone. I cannot remember how long I was unmoving. To me, time ceased to exist. Maybe it was a few seconds, several minutes, an hour perhaps? I don't however, I recovered from my feasting resignation.

I at once recalled that every Ayleid ruin had at least two exits and entrances, albeit one of them was normally inaccessible from the outside, cleverly hidden amongst the walls near ground level. With some difficulty and aching bones attributed to my prolonged kneeling, I pushed myself up with newfound determination. With an unsteady foothold I finally faced away from the sealed exit and turned around to inspect the tenebrous staircase. It without a doubt would carry me into the crypt's bowels and its cold, decomposing embrace.

Down the battered and partly broken steps I suspected to find more graves and sarcophagi, with little to no light. Maybe a hint as to what the strange stone from above might be. What I would find bends my mind to this day, however. I expected many things. Not, though, the horror I would soon encounter.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, in and out, before my sense of duty along with my previously lost courage and determination really returned to me. After all I've been through I did not intend to die here, rotting. No, I had to press on. Further into the pits. I had no choice but to escape.

I opened my knapsack and from it produced a bottle of water with which I quenched my thirst. Most of my other provisions had also been eaten along the way. I was left with two magicka potions and one healing potion, as well as half a water bottle and one single grilled venison chop.

Now I was ready to venture forth into the unknown. I carefully descended the partly dilapidated steps into the yawning abyss. This location was afflicted with a foreboding silence. The only noises audible were my hollow footsteps and my tense breathing. As I trod the path into nothingness, I noticed that, curiously, the smallest bits of crystalline matter had gathered in the quaint fractals of the marbly floor. Though, their inherent luminescence was hardly enough to discern any definite shapes amidst the shade that reigned supreme here. I was much more plagued by the question: how did it come here?

I didn't fancy some gust blew it all the way here, so how did these little shards end up this deep into the ruins? Notwithstanding my recently raised doubts as to the safety of my endeavour, I recalled I failed to bring a torch. For lack of a better light source, I readied a fire spell in my left hand to cast radiance amidst the shadows.

And as the light gained purchase I saw there was a deathly contraption ahead of me, anticipating my advent. A huge log, outfitted with a metal plate up front, hung from the ceiling. It was connected to a tripwire at the base of the first set of stairs. Quite an unusual trap for the Ayleids but not too improbable.

Seems like I've lit my hand just in time not to get brutally obliterated. I clumsily leapt over the wire onto the platform that connected the two staircases in a half-circular room. This type of staircase is customary among Ayleid architecture.

I turned around, glancing into the depths. Down these last few stairs was nothing save for, again, small sprinkles of glowing shards on the ground. I fired a beam out of my hand in terrible anticipation. But the path was clear. I proceeded into the impenetrable mists. Only my fire spell shedding some light. Careful now, I thought.

Whatever this place contains, it hasn't seen light in ages. Who knows what I might find.

I wandered endlessly in blindness, only my small flame to keep me company. I had severe trouble knowing where I even was in relation to anything. I felt lost, cold and alone. It was an oppressive atmosphere and an aggrieving journey. Soon, gnawing hunger set in and I used up the last of my food and water. The foul odor in this malign entombment creeping up my nostrils with every breath, slowly killing my sense of smell. In my exhaustion I briefly collapsed to the floor, extinguishing the spell.

Now, darkness held dominion. In my despair I rested, catching my breath. Walking for so long was most arduous and I lost all sense of time. My aimless pilgrimage a testament to my foolishness. Then I felt a presence. It was very faint, but somewhere in my vicinity must have been... something. A noise. A pulsating anomaly reverberated in these dark, cavernous halls. My mind shattered. _Something was here_!

The blood quickened and cold sweat streamed down my face. I had difficulty keeping my breathing under control as to not make a sound. I was afraid. What I was scared of I could not tell for my vision betrayed me in this pestilential emptiness. An undulating gravitational pull seemed to pass me by slowly as the pulsating noise grew louder. Then it vanished into the distance.

What was that? I couldn't fathom the kind of monstrosity that would dwell in such a place, nor did I want to imagine it. Then, out of nowhere, a faint light at the far end of the prehensile shadows. A boon at last! A gate of heretofore unseen like between the darkened aqueducts and tunnels I traveled in so unwittingly before. Whatever that thing was, I suspected it wanted me to find this door.

I approached it swiftly, even for my weakened countenance. After all, I traversed this abyss for an immeasurable amount of time without incident so I might as well tread unheeding to my surroundings.

The door was extraordinarily constructed, twice as high as the usual entryway, with an illegible engraving on its arching top. It was sealed but something told me it has been opened not too long ago. Behind it I fancied I heard curious noises of slouching feet and nasty gurgling. I frowned in response. There were creatures down here after all.

I made some crude efforts to open it, hurling every spell I knew at its surface, hacking with my pickaxe, even shoving my steel dagger into its fractals trying to make it budge. It yielded no results, however.

Before long I concluded that this piece of rundown masonry must have been connected to some sort of mechanism that opens it from afar. Off to the side lay a singular archway leading into an unexplored chamber. Peering into it revealed that it was arguably small, maybe thirty meters squared. For some inexplicable reason, this room was also faintly lit as opposed to the surrounding vaults. I inspected the chamber carefully but found no traps, no vile contraptions to hamper my efforts. A welcome change.

I carefully entered upon which I saw a pillar and a lever. On the pillar stood menacingly a black soapstone of unknown origin. Finally, a first clue! I dislodged it from its mounting and stashed it into my knapsack to study it when I get back to the surface.

Then I carefully surveyed my vacant surroundings and pulled the lever after I've ascertained that no traps were present. It clicked and gears started to shift and move within the walls. In anticipation I was disappointingly met by a still sealed gate. Just what was I to do? An idea sparked in my head. The soapstone!

I produced it from my stash and tried to examine it. However, the light was much too dim to identify anything. So I set my hand ablaze yet again and was finally able to study it. The stone was of rectangular appearance, black as night, about the length of my forearm from one end to the other and about as thick. Its tips to either side were pyramidally cut. It was embellished with Ayleidoon runes that have been ornately carved into its neatly polished surface.

I squinted my eyes in an effort to attempt to read what has been written upon the relic. After a while, I finally deciphered the etched-in letters.

They read: "Morielle av Varlaise racuvar haelia cey vey Nir." This line translates to: "The ill beauty of the stars cast down terrible shadow to Nirn."

To my immediate regret I made the mistake of uttering the Ayleid phrase out loud. For a moment I forgot that in ancient words lies a primordial might, eager to be unleashed. Furthermore, the engravings hinted at something of utterly malicious purport. If this incantation was to be associated with the events that had transpired, I could only speculate that whatever came down from the heavens struck the earth with ruinous contempt.

Shortly after I spoke the words, the soapstone emitted a tenebrious shine, an anti-light that consumed even the brightness of my flame spell, leaving me with invariable emptiness. It shook violently in my hands until I lost grip of it. The relic now floated on its own, causing a solid void to gather around it. The sentient fumes flew into the nothing of the misty crypt, out of sight, leaving only the detestable stone behind. Then the brooding gate opened.

VIII

I was stupefied as to what I've just set in motion with this cruel invocation. And when my streak of improbable luck would dwindle, I would come to know just what I did. However, as the great door opened, I briefly wondered what the lever was for, then, if not to operate the gate.

The opening revealed a grand hall before me. As I've grown wont to, seeping blackness covered the majority of this space. In an attempt to light the room, I again readied the fire spell only to discover that, to my horror, it had been tainted! Instead of a flickering orange flame there now levitated in my palm a black smoke of radiating void. Whatever daemoniac magic the soapstone had set free, it permanently defiled my burning vengeance! It cast shadow and burned far more ardently than previously conceived.

Though, as soon as I used the spell, a cold sensation permeated my body and brain. Just as if it was sapping my bodily heat or life force. This kind of unconsecrated witchcraft is not meant for mortals such as you or I. A palpable fear pervaded my aching mind as I pictured the consequences that were to be speculated upon, considering this unhallowed magic exists.

Forwhy the user of it was required to be of drastically different nature. Moreover, this hinted at the existence of terrors hitherto unwitnessed and it dawned on me that I involuntarily might have granted them passage into our reality by means of accidental conjuration. At once I dispersed the black flame and instead let my fingers become engulfed by blissfully untainted electricity. I don't know any torch spells so luminous destruction magic was the only viable source of light I had at my disposal.

Thinking about it, I wondered why I didn't carry a torch in the first place. I came to the conclusion that all ruins I ever visited never were this clouded and hazy.

Indeed, I hypothesized that I might not even be situated in a normally accessible part of Malada. I supposed that the falling obelisk unearthed a set of meticulously hidden structures deep beneath the regular spaces. A place nobody has seen since the fall of the Ayleid empire.

With crackling electricity in hand, I braced myself to explore the grand chamber at hand. I crossed the threshold and was surprised by an array of welkynd stones suddenly lighting themselves. Lining a now visible central path were twenty small columns to either side, about two meters in between each, mounted on which were welkynd stones that glistened faintly against the brooding atmosphere. At the far end of said path was a slightly taller pillar with a varla stone on top.

Through the now illuminated area, I noticed a salient mural on the wall to the left depicting the soapstone I had previously found. To the right was a bas-relief of a varla stone that loomed maliciously. Perhaps, I thought, I had to combine the two. Even though I had my doubts about partaking in even more unspeakable rituals, I still had to find a way out. And maybe this was the key.

I approached the white gleaming gem at the back of the vault. I knew of the prodigious value of one of these and was thereby tempted to unfasten it from its marbly seating. I stopped myself just in time when I noticed the various stone orifices in the ground to my feet. One wrong move and I would have been viciously impaled. I stepped back and pondered on what I could throw to dislodge it. Then I made a grievous mistake that could have been avoided had I paid attention.

Out of all the items I could have picked while groping around my backpack, I so damnably chose that detestable stone that threatened to defile my very soul. Yes, I intended to connect these two but I didn't know that I did not have to. Had I examined my surroundings a little better I would have noticed that there was a narrow passage off to the left side. But alas, I didn't.

And so in resentment I hurled the engraved relic towards the gem, making it plunge to the floor from its perch. Now I noticed another mural behind the pillar that held the varla stone, previously hidden from sight by the gem's luminescence.

It depicted said stone, circumjacent to which stood a group of shadowy, deformed figures. To my dismay I should soon witness what this image meant. The white gem floated into view and gradually darkened until it was as black as the soapstone itself. I didn't realize the momentousness of my actions until the gem started to spin softly in the air and I could hear a familiar noise of muffled gurgling. I swiftly grabbed the two items and stashed them away quickly. And out of the corner of my eye, I beheld a shambling terror.

IX

Out of nowhere appeared an entity. First, I heard its slouching steps curiously dragging on the ground. From an angle to my right a pallid, blue-purple radiance came into view, followed by a peculiarly disgusting retching. As the being came closer, my heart dropped and anxiety ruled over my emotions. In disbelief I looked at it.

A creature of curious origin revealed itself to me. A vile thing that was evidently an undead Ayleid guardsman or soldier, that much was certain. However, all over its decomposed body sprouted prismatic appendages, crystals and shards of various length and size jutting out of the creature's mummified flesh. The right half of its face had been consumed by the alien coating and its corresponding arm had completely vitrified from hand do elbow, replacing the dry tissue with a glowing lance of some proportion.

Its knee pads, elbows and joints were utterly infested with odious opalescence and from its chest, back and throat protruded lustrous spikes of portentous quality. Its one free eye shone queerly with a violet hue.

It is said that the abyss returned even the boldest gaze. In this case, it came in the form of a diabolical abomination, overtaken by the same weird substance Horace and Azarain had been working on.

The sight filled me with terrible figurations. If this material reanimated and blighted corpses in such a gruesome fashion, there is no telling as to what it might do to the living! As it crackingly turned its head, facing me, I fancied I spied a hint of inquisitiveness in its look. Even the dead could be surprised every now and then, as it seems. My presence here must have been unexpected. In truth, I would later come to know that I was not the one destined to open that gate and bewitch that accursed varla stone.

We exchanged fierce glances for what felt like an eternity. I was paralyzed, creeping anguish spreading among my nerves. I snapped out of it when the creature suddenly charged at me with detestable noises and black liquid seeping from its mouth. It attempted to impale me with its hideously malformed arm but missed only by a few inches. I responded with force, firing lightning and ice at the nameless horror. It got hit by one of my ice needles that was now stuck in its head, slowly melting away.

It answered by a shrieking howl. The monstrosity then hurled forth a volley of luminous shards that only barely failed to hit. In my despondence at a foe I was not prepared to fight, I grabbed my pickaxe and brutally rammed it into the creature's scalp, splitting the head. Numerous small crystals were sent flying from where a brain had once been. The cavity in the undead's skull revealed that the crystalline blight had completely taken over the host's body. This was no mere necromancy. This kind of black magic was something grander and much worse than anything I had heretofore encountered.

Unfazed by my strike, it shuffled forward, inching closer to me. In a last resort, I shot my recently defiled fire at it, feeling how it drained me of power. This appeared to hurt it greatly, though I couldn't fathom why. At least it worked. Soon however, I was too weakened from using this spell so I continued by producing the dagger from my portable stash while the undead was briefly stunned from my assault. I rushed forth, driving the blade deep into its throat, rending flesh, bone and gems. At last, the terrible hellspawn got beheaded and went limp.

I had severe trouble in catching my breath, having been utterly exhausted. Alas, in my foolish attempt to defend myself, I overlooked one crucial detail. If the presence of this thing explained why the sarcophagi from above had been broken from the inside it also meant that there must be at least ten, maybe twenty more hidden among the shadows. If I had this much trouble despatching only one of them, I thought, with how great a difficulty would I battle several of these?

I concluded that I had to flee right that instant but in this godforsaken place, my vision blurred from utter fatigue, I could not spy an exit.

It was too late.

The commotion prompted a number of these hellish entities to step out of the shadows. They had many different forms. While one had a crystalline set of claws for hands, another sported vitreous legs or appendages protruding from its head. Yet another was almost completely armored by this otherworldly substance. This was a fight I could not possibly win. I counted eight of them, each bent on tearing me to pieces. Their sick noises of gagging and crunching shards heralded imminent doom.

I tried running away from sharp projectiles being shot at me, evading several strikes and slashes. Sometimes I responded with my small collection of offensive spells, failing, though, to put down even one of them. In the feverish heat of battle, a small tunnel to the side became visible. I chugged one of my two remaining magicka potions before making some last efforts of defence.

Just before I could exit the chamber, a volley of fireballs and small meteorites lit up the exit. The spells connected with their intended targets, ravaging two of the horrors that pursued me. They could be felled after all. Horace and Azarain emerged from the murky mists, firing and casting spell after spell, rushing to my aid. Together, the three of us took on the six remaining adversaries. Horace, pickaxe in hand, beheaded another with surgical precision just before it had a chance to burrow its claws into my flesh. Panting from this fight I valiantly fought off one more close to me, averting a potentially fatal blow by deflecting its sharp arm with my dagger's blade just in time. I answered by shoving my knife's tip into its heart after which it expired.

My glance shifted to the right hand side. I observed Azarain pitted against three of these abominable lifeforms. He dodged expertly but was running out of breath. I drew attention by firing lighting at one of them. It turned and charged at me instead. It sprinted in my direction with malintent but was stopped in its tracks by Horace's terrible assault with his trusty tool, shattering its skull to glistening pieces.

In the meantime, Azarain had defeated one of his enemies by splitting it in half by a particularly gruesome spell we never knew he was capable of. It appeared to have weakened him greatly but there was no time to help him, since the last two monstrosities were fast approaching Horace and me. One of them wielded an ancient sword that had been fused with its body by the foreign substance, the other was almost completely overgrown - a mere touch would have meant injury.

The sword-wielding monster I took care of. I evaded its arguably crude swings with relative ease while closing in on my target, even though fatigue started setting in. Horace next to me fervently hacked into his enemy, shattering its armored hide, and the creature itself, to pieces. I on the other hand could stand my ground no longer and suffered a powerful blow that sent me down onto the naked floor with ringing ears. My body held fast however and in a last effort, I drove the dagger inside its chest and cooked it from the inside with burning electricity as it bowed over me to ready its blade for a finalizing strike. It fell to ashes, leaving only the weapon it was bound to and some shards behind.

Azarain however ran out of luck, his body succumbing to deathly strain that spelled his imminent demise. He failed to dodge the creature's last blow and got brutally eviscerated, a hugely gashing laceration stretching across his chest, tearing off his arm. Horace and I could only watch as the dismembered limb was flung into the darkness.

A cataract of blood poured out of his grievous injury, tainting both himself and the ground with thick, red liquid. The monster readied itself for a final blow. In a clear moment, with the last bit of my strength, I picked up the leftover sword from my recently slain enemy and rushed forth. I burrowed it deep inside the monster, slicing it from the waist up into two halves. It collapsed to the floor and so did I. I looked over to poor Azarain.

At first I thought there was nothing we could do when he sunk to the ground, screaming in interminable agony at the fiercely searing pain throbbing in his wounds. But I gasped as I discovered: he was still breathing!


	5. Chapter 4

X

Ringing ears. Blurred vision. Encroaching darkness threatening to consume me. The strangely lengthening shadows tried to pull me into their domain. As I was about to break, I cast a glance over yonder to our gravely wounded Dunmer friend. We were victorious. The three of us had won the battle. But we paid a heavy price, measured in blood. A price no mortal could have been prepared for to pay. We didn't yet know our triumph was as fragile as brittle glass. The only thing we were sure about was that we needed to get out of here - and fast. If more of them came we'd surely perish down there.

In my delirium, I was somehow able to chug a healing potion. My senses returned to me when I swallowed the bitter liquid. In the ensuing clarity I realized I had been largely unscathed. A few minor cuts and bruises from falling or being thrown around. No major injuries though. In this timeless moment, I watched Horace rapidly approach Azarain after he shot me a look - most likely to find out as to whether or not I could stand up on my own - and did his best to submerge our friend in all the healing spells he was capable of. To no avail, it turned out.

Meanwhile I made some crude efforts to push myself up from the ground again. Thereby I took note of my entire body aching horribly. Even so much as moving proved to provide a serious challenge. I made it though, stumbling forward to aid my Nord brother in need.

I inspected Azarain's condition. The blighted creature had torn open his chest, inflicting a gaping wound seeping immeasurable amounts of blood. His right arm had been excised in the process. Breathing only faintly, weakened as he was. All our combined restoration proved null against his deep cuts and dismemberment. Desperate, we tore off the cloth of our robes to use as some form of preliminary bandage to at the very least get the Dunmer back to the surface where Lili no doubt had prepared tonics and remedies. To our dismay, in the ruling dark we were frustratingly unable to espy his arm and thus, had to leave the limb to rot in these squalid vaults. Worse still, we beheld as the makeshift bandages immediately soaked themselves, unable to staunch the flow. In a last effort to provide at least a momentary abatement, Horace cast a spell upon him that would knock Azarain unconscious.

I had, in the meantime, caught my breath. No time to rest or celebrate. With great difficulty did both Horace and I heave Azarain's limp body over our shoulders. We slowly but steadily transported him out of the murky depths. "Over there!" exclaimed Horace, pointing towards the narrow aperture off to the left thither my two saviours came from. Just as we were about to leave that abhorrent place, I fancied I heard a growing, reverberating droning sound, increasing in intensity every second.

Faintly audible whispers amplified my developing anxiety. I had heard this noise before. A familiar tone that slipped past me amongst the shadows before I entered the hall wherein contained were the blighted, as we would later call them. I sensed multiple strong gravitational pulls behind us. My fatigue vanished, however, as soon as I turned my head.

Out of the creeping void emerged several horrible figures the likes of which I've never seen. In the crypt, it was impossible to make out any definite shapes. Though, the little that I saw sufficed to disperse my exhaustion. Anomalies in darkness, living shades drew closer to us.

They stretched out their talons of emptiness to grab me. It was no fever dream, I was certain. With unprecedented resolve I attempted flight from those extraneous terrors. Horace watched in bafflement as he witnessed my apparent strength and endurance as we ran for the exit, Azarain on our shoulders. How did he not sense these presences? I wondered but only briefly. Time was short and our friend's life ebbed with each passing second. In reaching the tunnel, I felt how my knapsack lightened, albeit I didn't know what it was that I must have lost. No time to check the contents of my portable, leathery stash, I for a last time peered into the darkness before exiting. All I saw were these contemptible shapes retreating into their pit.

Relieved they've stopped their pursuit, Horace and I fled through the narrow passage. In our haste, he explained to me that at some point, the wall opened somewhere, revealing a hidden path. Intrigued, the two of them started investigating. As soon as they picked up on my battle noises they rushed to my aid, spells at the ready. I realized that I must've opened the stone when I operated that queer lever in that obscure chamber deep in the sepulchre's bowels. In retrospect I sure am glad that I did.

About halfway into the claustrophobic marble tube, Ravaia came into view and helped us. I was just about to collapse again when she burdened herself with my onus. Even in the escape tunnel it was eerily silent. Only our hastened footsteps and collective, heavy breathing were audible amidst the cold and wet masonry around us.

Finally, the end of this rather tight space was in sight. A current of fresh air intertwined with the musty and stale atmosphere of the ruins, gradually becoming clearer until, at last, we could breathe soundly again. We stepped out of the opening into the bed of the mound. To our immediate surprise, we observed something of utmost peculiarity that should herald calamities untold.

XI

While Ravaia and Horace were busy carrying Azarain's gravely wounded body to our field infirmary, I stopped after reaching the surface for a quick, although somewhat troubled, breather. In their noble swiftness, the two of them failed to notice what I noticed. To my bitter astonishment, the crystalline coating had stretched out into the soil for a few meters but curiously it seemed to have stopped spreading past a certain point. Moreover, not only did it provoke a weird change of hue to the surrounding flora that it touched, all other colours save a sinister, dark purple were gone from the gem. A shade I knew well. Furthermore still, the small, black dot in the crystal that I peeked a few days prior appeared to have grown in size considerably.

This portentous situation set off all the red flags my mind could muster. Something huge has happened. Something of primordial malignancy. Looking up into the sky as my two friends heaved the wounded's body up the creaking rope ladder, I discovered that the witching hour had already struck. The stars loomed menacingly about and I couldn't contain my anguish towards them. Did they really send us a deadly evil? Uneasy, I climbed up the ladder as well.

I wondered just how long I was trapped in that underground purgatory. Maybe it was an entire day I've spent among the dead. Watching how Azarain's sedated self was transported to the tent, I, too, thought to myself that getting some rest would be a good idea. But what of the shifting infestation? How would we deal with that? Even worse, I feared there was some even greater threat in those unhallowed tombs. A threat we could not yet see, but it was definitely there.

I suddenly remembered how my backpack has gotten lighter a couple moments ago. I checked and in wonder noticed that the black varla stone was amiss! Had those shades stolen it? If so, for what purpose? Too many thoughts rushed through my head. Too many things to worry about to keep track of them all.

I desperately needed to rejuvenate myself and my colleagues acknowledged this. In light of Azarain's dire condition and my completely spent strength, Lili proposed we'd postpone the meeting she had scheduled for when I was to resurface and allowed us all some rest. I crept into my bedroll and fell asleep almost immediately. I knew that the remaining three would do everything in their power to mend Azarain's lesions and bodily damage. But there was this persistent feeling that refused to subside. The sense that all we could do was to numb the pain, not, however, cure his demolished state. In falling asleep, I thought I imagined suffering from slight pneumonic pain. Probably from all the running, I told myself, before dozing off into the realms of blissful dream.

The next morning, I frightfully recall I've not been woken by the rising sun that spread its grossly incandescent rays across my face, tickling my nostrils. No. I awoke to the unbearably agonized cries of the afflicted Dunmer in the infirmary. Spine-chilling screeches of pain invoked in me an indescribable sickness. I could not imagine what this must've been like. It was horrible.

Repeatedly and without end he yelled "HELP ME!" at the utmost top of his lungs. We didn't know anyone possessed the capabilities to even scream this loudly. In between his pleas for help he remarked in similarly disturbing fashion that he's _'bursting from the inside'_. I was, of course, not the only one to take note. Creeping out of my shelter I saw Ravaia, Horace and Lilisephona situated circumjacent to the medicinal tent with warped and anxious looks on their faces.

"There's nothing we can do" Lili faintly aspirated, her eyes filling with tears. Her face went reddish when the streaming tears dripped down her chin. She couldn't take it any longer. Her hands pressed tightly against her ears, she retreated into the big tent, sobbing uncontrollably. After Lili hurried off, I decided to join my fellows. None have hitherto braced the space's inside.

I approached the entrance, accompanied by worried expressions, and lifted the obfuscating sheet of cloth that divided present reality and the mad realm of eternal damnation. The sight that had thusly revealed itself to me made sure I'd never forget, engraved in my memory forever.

Apart from his ghoulish noises, his body had been completely malformed by the otherworldly corruption. The broad incision on his chest had turned into a sparkling crevasse of sharp, pointed spikes. It infested greatly his before vacant stump where the arm had once been and grew a glistening lance of glassy appearance in its place.

Azarain's wails soon broke into a dystopian cacophony of gurgles and gags as I beheld that this blight had made its way up the throat and face. Drawing a shiny, central line of vile blueish luminosity that stretched all the way to his forehead. I witnessed one particular vitreous protrusion pushing itself gently out of his larynx, silencing his plight. Thereunto an involuntary retching ensued, staining himself and his bed in a thick, steaming red-black liquid.

At last, his eyes rolled backwards and a nauseating crack echoed as I saw how the substance moved and shifted callously between them.

_I could only listen as his vomiting howls squirted more fluid from betwixt his clenched teeth. I could only watch as his head suddenly split in two._

Ripped, dark grey skin and frayed bones shot through the linen walls with explosive brutality. My robes, now splattered with blood and brains. I reeled, dazed and unbelieving towards the miscreation I had submitted myself to so obliviously. I grew faint and unresponsive, pale as I was from the shock.

Staggering out the tent and tumbling onto the indifferent grass, I could clearly see that both Ravaia and Horace were equally shaken. All of us, even Lili who I espied tilting her head in horror out of her recluse, realized that our friend had just passed. Though not in dignity, but in madness.

XII

Ravaia and Horace inadvertently covered their mouths in grief. I was still on all fours when I observed Lili traipsing closer to us. None could have predicted this outcome when we first started this expedition. Lili's face was still blushed from her frantic sobbing earlier, but at the realization of this event, the oppressive emotion of depression held her heart in its tight grip. So much so that she had become too numb to shed more tears. Too broken to make even an attempt at any utterances.

With difficulty I stood up, preparing myself mentally to speak a few words in Azarain's honour notwithstanding the utter surreality of it all. Though, we had no time to mourn it turned out.

At once, a loud crunching noise reverberated in our heads. A moment later, all of the colour on Lili's face vanished instantly. With widened eyes did she point a shaking index finger at the thing behind me, mute with incomprehensible terror. I turned around.

Out of the now filthy, dilapidated tent shambled the blighted abomination that had been Azarain mere moments ago. With uncoordinated steps did he shuffle forward, eyes glowing, his split head spilling copious amounts of leftover blood. As he drew nearer, the two separated parts of the skull smacked together sickeningly from time to time. Jutting out of this monster's face was a singularly purple gem, situated just above where the nose had once been. Ghastly breathing noises emanated from the creature that used to be our friend as the central stone began to glow eerily.

In a fortunate reflex, I leapt aside as the phosphorescence increased. In a turn of cruel fate however, Lili, who had become apathetically taciturn, had no such ability. She was paralyzed with festering fright and to her immediate undoing, she did not move so much as an inch before it happened.

Out of the corpse's head shot a beam of pure energy, embracing the surrounding area in a dark, orange light. The same beam that had been present when the still living Azarain fired off his dubious spell during our sepulchral battle from last night. His upper body bent backwards from the apparent recoil, audibly crushing his backbones. Or what remained of them. The magic stream rapidly traversed the ground in Lilisephona's direction, burning the lush earthly covering to ashes. It then quickly went skyward. In disbelief we all turned our heads away from the now impossibly twisted body of the resurrected Dunmer and fixated our eyes on Lili.

From her groin area upwards stretched a line of blood that proceeded to continually soak her robe. Her bulging eyes told of her instantaneous demise as we curiously witnessed a wisp-like cloud leave her shell upon expiry, flying into one of the gems that protruded from the live cadaver behind us. Her body collapsed in on itself in response to such terrible assault. It was only then that the remaining three of us grasped the full extent of that which had just transpired.

We watched the two halves of her carcass slide away from each other. One fell forward, the other tumbled backwards. At once, the ground was defiled with her innards. A gruesome amalgamation of red life force and entrails mixed with an unspeakable conglomeration of half-digested intestinal contents, stomach acid and manure. This sanguinary concoction grew swiftly into a pool of prodigious fetidness and reek, engulfing her cadaver gorily in a display of unrelenting beastliness.

Breathlessly we looked at the unmentionable parody of what used to be our colleague and close friend. Then we readied our weapons and spells when the thing's torso somehow snapped back into place. The corpse rushed forward in a stabbing motion, intent on ending Horace's life. He managed to evade this attack and responded with a fierce hack of his pickaxe into Azarain's face. Something shattered. Was the gem a weak spot, perhaps?

The monster staggered backwards. Using a well-placed lightning strike, I guided it sideways to Ravaia's waiting sword. Crushing vengeance for deeds untold cascaded down on the monstrosity when Ravaia's sharp, curved blade split the head even further, slicing down the throat. It inexplicably answered with a howl as the central gem burst into bits. The shards shot across the open as Azarain's corpse attempted another assault at Ravaia. It swung its luminous arm widely at her, missing not but rather getting deflected by her shield. She reeled from this powerful blow as the thing readied its lance to strike her down with preternatural force.

I dashed, lighting my black, defiled flame. In a jumping motion, I placed my burning palm on the fleshy aperture that had once been a neck and throat. I punished the detestable horror with ardent fury. It burned up its body from the inside whereunto it quickly collapsed. All that remained was a smoking, empty shell of fumes and charred flesh.

I unwillingly sat down in exhaustion as well, weakened again by this ungodly magic. Horace and I both coughed vigorously after our ordeal. The remaining three of us looked at each other in crushing hopelessness. Truly, we prepared for one burial. However, now we had to conduct two. We didn't even know if a proper ceremony could be held. For Azarain at least, since from all we've seen so far, this alien substance may infest the earth.

Notwithstanding our worries, that evening we began digging regardless. With utmost caution did we remove as many crystals from our friend's mangled body as had been possible. We tried everything from using pliers to pluck the leftovers to rinsing the burnt husk with water just to ensure we wouldn't contaminate the soil. A grim purpose.

By nightfall we were done, awarding some last honors to Azarain and Lilisephona both. That night, we were barely able to stand. All day we've been preparing the ceremonies, heaving earth and stone, crafting small monuments to erect as headstones. A devastating circumstance it was, no doubt. But we couldn't allow to pay our heavy losses or our gloomy state of mind any heed for we also knew that we must every other decently sensible folk would have fled in utter panic, we in unison agreed we had no choice but to carry on. Lest these grievous sacrifices be in vain.

And through all the calamity that shattered our minds, we were able to make deductions, construct solid hypotheses and theories as to the nature of the radiating menace. Our journey was far from over, our group emotionally crushed.

We did not know that the vitreous blight and its associated consequences were only half the horror that should unfold around Malada. I had a sense back then. That this wasn't the end of our perils. At least, there were still these shades. And the circumstance that they've stolen a particular item. But now, we had to rest and in the morning of the next day, proceed with gathering together all of our scientific discoveries.

This had to be stopped.


	6. Chapter 5

XIII

It was high time we began with our accounts of scientific discoveries in respect to the looming dark at hand. We were still shaken from the events that had transpired the day before. Even after burying our two friends about fifty meters away from the encampment southwestward, we felt that our sadness would not subside. We said our last goodbyes then. But the faintest sense of something with greater purport than mere death kept lingering about as our group gathered by dawn in the big tent. It was not in mourning of our losses that we felt uneasy. Rather it were the singular observations and perturbing coincidences we made and had been pointed to.

All the evidence that we had gathered and put on paper, telling the tale of a prodigious calamity. That night, none were on guard duty. And as peculiar of a sentiment this is, it was good that way.

When Horace, Ravaia and I got up in the morning to discuss all our findings, we noticed that for the first time, some entity must've been traipsing around our camp. Whatever it was, we thought, that nocturnal visitor was fortunately oblivious to our presence for no one was alerted. My heart dropped, however, when I pointed out to my associates whence the footsteps I meticulously tracked, originated from.

_Southwestward_. With some hesitation we approached the crude graves, following the trail of warped prints in the tainted mud. We found both holes empty. "Don't tell me that..." Ravaia started a sentence she dared not complete.

Azarain's grave was dug up from the inside, whereas Lili's had been opened from the outside. The conclusions we drew were maddening. After a brief moment of stupefied taciturnity I all of a sudden cursed wildly, exclaiming that I shan't wait for it to kill me as well. This snapped my colleagues out of their nightmarish trance.

Truth be told, injury and despondence had taken away from me. But I didn't intend to venture this far only to despair now. To take action was in order. And our first step would be collecting and archiving all that we knew of the blight from the stars. When we gathered in the tent, we shared all our combined findings with each other. We were two days late and two men short. If we had not lost Azarain, a lot may have been prevented.

We came to valid hypotheses that I shall relay to you now. These will be of vital importance should you decide to send help.

Based on our first observations, this alien substance 'infests' the area around it, transforming it into crystalline things of sparkly grandeur. It goes through stone and other inanimate things but appallingly does not stop at living tissue. When we observed the contaminated soil, the grass changed colour but the earth showed only hints of shards. This led us to assume that, at least in plants, the changes are not that severe.

On the other hand, this alien material appeared to sport necromantic qualities. I've first handedly experienced them. Once in the tenebrous sepulchre as we all almost perished in the deathly battle against the blighted. Another time as Azarain had, after expiry, risen as one of them. Worse, he seemingly rose yet again, even after careful extraction of the substance from his body. By what power we could fathom not. Only that Lili's split corpse has been taken away as well.

Moreover, the observations we had so unluckily made during Azarain's slaying of Lili in such brutal fashion pointed towards a grim assumption. That any blighted creature must possess inherent soul trapping capabilities. As any avid enchanter knows, a wisp-like light emerging from any living organism that flew into any gem of some proportion could mean only one thing. Hence, we also took to infer this starry affliction grew no mere prismatic appendages - they actually were, so we believed, _soul gems!_

Highly concerning and impactful theories mounted as we discussed with intensifying anxiety and utter anguish the prophetic import of what all this meant. We quickly realized that the cosmic sickness was much more alerting than we at first thought. And a sickness it truly presented itself to be.

Ever since Horace and I had come back from the tomb, we suffered from some pneumonic disease every now and then provoking vigorous coughing fits. So during our conference, Horace happened to expectorate yet again with force. Thereunto cascaded down a cataract of bloodied radiance on the collapsible table, staining some of our notes.

Now there was no mistaking the threat. Desperation set in after we collectively grasped what kind of situation we got ourselves in. To think we'd some day end like Azarain had was a detestable cogitation. And there was no known remedy. There was, though, one singularly frightening detail Ravaia pointed out after having listened to our ramblings. Bear in mind that she had been a warrior, no scholar or mage in any capacity. But even she knew a fair bit about soul gems.

After Horace and I talked about the possibility that these shiny stones might be just that, she enunciated that there was only one place Ravaia knew about where those would grow naturally. The Soul Cairn. We held our breaths for a moment as the sentiment sunk in. Could it be? This unconsecrated sorcery, could it hail from a place, dimensions away? By our studies we were well aware that within that plane, a gate existed separating our reality from theirs. If Ravaia was correct it'd mean that the gate somehow has opened. Impossible to imagine what that would spell for our world.

We sat down, puzzled. What were we to do? How could we possibly oppose this corruption? Our only solace was the circumstance that the growths appeared to come to a halt after a certain distance. So at least, the continent as a whole would stay intact, even if the luminescent undead were to resurrect an army. We sat there, thinking, until at last I from my stash produced that black soapstone with its Ayleid embellishments.

I relayed what happened after I made the mistake of uttering aloud the engraved phrase chiseled into its surface. How some sort of anti-light embraced me and defiled my magic. And how it tainted a varla stone that had subsequently been stolen from me by shadowy figures.

Taking all our information into account, we finalized on theorizing that some entity from the Soul Cairn had initiated all of this to happen for reasons unknown. We inferred that it was most likely an undertaking to gather even more souls or just to harm Nirn. Maybe both. And whatever primal might I've unleashed upon the world plays an important part in this enigma of evil as well. I wondered, just what kind of threat are we up against?

XIV

If anything of what we believed turned out to be true, we'd face an adversary we could not defeat. After all, we were scientists and scholars, no heroes. Notwithstanding all the adversities this perdition presented, we resolved to venture into the ruins again. We needed to know more if we at some point intended to lay waste to it. Though it greatly disturbed us how the bodies were missing. It hinted at another resurrection. But how?

Our perturbedness did not dissuade our increasingly questioning minds, however. If anything, the bellows of thought blasted even more strongly now. We knew we couldn't save our friends. But perhaps we could avert the doom that rose from that mound of madness just long enough before it became a more serious problem. One that would affect all of Tamriel.

Horace and I readied ourselves to yet again plunge into the lion's mouth, sitting atop the pits of the age old tunnels and chambers. As we perched at the aperture's precipice we beheld the brooding gem. It had now blackened completely, engulfed in seething fumes. A demoralizing sight, that stone. It told of whatever processes were at work here made steady progress.

The two of us decided to leave Ravaia in the camp. She was the only one who had not yet succumbed to the blight in some fashion and we intended to leave it that way. It proved to be at length fatal to be even near those extra dimensional things. So only Horace and my good self were left to combat this foe.

Not stalling any longer, we traversed the escape tunnel to reach again the location in which was contained a writhing malice of utmost abhorrence. The way back in turned out to be much quicker, though we anticipated another fight. But to our surprise, the gloomy hall was devoid of both life and unlife. Had I only, in my anxiety, imagined those shades? A mirage?

With uncertainty we pressed forward, knowing not what to expect. The black varla stone was gone. No shapes or blighted in sight. An atmosphere of relative safety eased our minds for the time being. For a fair bit, I lost track of how long exactly we wandered around that chamber looking for anything out of the ordinary amongst all the extraordinary murals, carvings and architectural salinity. Curiously, we encountered no combatants during the entirety of our expedition.

We were about to give up and leave again when Horace tipped my shoulder, pointing at a hitherto invisible mural on a wall that had just lit up. On it there was depicted a map of Cyrodiil with every Ayleid ruin marked by a glowing spot. Above the rocky image it said a single word, the implications of which sent chills down my spine. _"Tarni"_. "Gates"?

If our suspicions were at all true and Malada was to be used as some kind of entry point for the denizens of other, more ungodly dimensions, then this map told us clearly and without a doubt that _every_ Ayleid ruin had the capabilities necessary to be used as such. Was this a carefully planned failsafe? An act of last vengeance fastidiously devised by the Hidden Ones of ancient times in the event that their empire fell and Umaril failed? If so, by what power did they design it? The questions piled up tremendously. But now we could say with certainty that the entire province was at stake.

I quickly and coarsely copied the map from the terrible relief on a sheet of paper. Albeit we had no knowledge in respect to stop any of this from happening, we resolved to do something that straight thinking folk would never have seen as an option. Break the gem.

If there's anything we could try to keep the darkness at bay, we were ready for it. With great haste we hurried back to the surface. Swift steps echoed as the daylight at the end of the narrow passage drew closer. But our resolve should soon be tested when we were interrupted by an utterly frightened scream. It was Ravaia's voice. Had Lili and Azarain returned? Risen again as unholy abominations of tainted space? We lost no time in sprinting to the exit. The empty swings of a sword slicing through air could be heard amidst an audible panting and a faint droning sound that would make my heart jump in panic. I was the first to climb up the still working rope ladder, fatigued as I was from all the bodily exertion. Then, I beheld a vista that should change my outlook on the situation forever.

Confidence faltered gradually as I watched Ravaia some distance away battle with an unnameable terror. A denizen born from the deepest recesses of an outer hell. A ghastly apparition, half solid, half incorporeal, encircling with riveting speed and dexterity our Redguard warrior, clawing at her viciously. So at last, I despaired, the living shadows have emerged from their domain. Looking at it in broad daylight, I was still inept to readily ascertain as to what it actually was. Even now, remembering its exact appearance proves to be devilishly difficult.

This wraith-like grotesqueness sporting the queer likeness of a hooded man is nigh indescribable. It seemed to be only in part composed of solid matter. Being utterly black and oozing where it was, fuming and smoking half transparently where it wasn't. The horror didn't have any legs but rather a tattered, seeping blackness that dripped down only to dissipate before it could hit the ground. The apparent 'torso', if one could call it that, possessed two or maybe four arms. I wasn't able to clearly observe it for my crooked perception of the levitating daemon changed whenever it moved.

Accentuating the thing's utmost bizarrerie was a warping spot in or on its chest which I can only describe as some 'pulsating emptiness'. A space-bending anomaly that twisted the vision of the beholder from every angle. Thusly, it is impossible to describe adequately its true appearance and form due to whatever anomaly this was, it sufficiently obfuscated its features to a point at which its anatomy looked unearthly and completely outrageous. Improbable and implausible.

As it floated hither and thither, everything around it, including the apparition itself, shifted and mangled puzzlingly. This... just should not be. Its mere presence and the very premise of its existence mocking and insulting nature herself, sapping defilement from every orifice. Less steadfast men may even go mad just by gazing at it. By the divines, I almost fall into delirium myself as I try to recall it now.

Horace, who by this time had also resurfaced, was equally speechless. I remember him saying only this: "The Nine save us...". The unspeakable nightmare must have taken note of us and turned its head to face both him and me in response.

There was no face under its suspected cowl. Only the gaping void that seemed to pull us in as we peered into the stars and cosmic fever of the abyss. And from it released a deafening wail beyond mortal understanding causing our blood to boil and freeze solid at the same time. A sound unheard of, it presented no causality betwixt itself and Nirn.

No, this was the work of nameless outer spheres from the vastness of untold existences. I can never unhear that noise. Nor can I unsee what followed.

While the thing was distracted by our intrusion, Ravaia undertook an attempt at stabbing it right in its droning nothingness. Shockingly, the sword was pulled in and crushed with a gravitational surge of energy. Now I experienced just how narrowly I escaped death amidst the Ayleid graves. This was the type of entity I looked at down there. But if that's true, there were at least six more.

Ravaia had been disarmed. She attempted flight but was inexplicably pulled back. The shifting, floating parody of a being lifted its despicable talons to get a hold of her. Ravaia's face stiffened upon being touched by it, her mouth wide open, eyes bulging. She was unable to scream as we observed in her eyes how the mind must've shattered to pieces. Proceeding to howl again the shape shouted in what I assumed to be the dragon language.

Echoing across the landscape we heard: "AUS SAH NAHKRIIN!".

Out from its supposed face that was not a face shot a stream of solid night, gathering around Ravaia as it threatened to choke her to death. She was brought to her knees. Then we witnessed her bones breaking, one by one. Thereunto her body began to _fold in on itself!_ I have severe trouble to explain how it truly was. I've seen it with my own eyes, yet I cannot fully grasp what exactly transpired. I can not believe what I saw.

Her limbs were crushed by an invisible force against her torso and abdomen, splattering fractured bone and frayed flesh everywhere. Some of which was swallowed by the creature's anomaly, I believe. The entire process was accompanied by incomprehensibly agonized screams emanating from her throat until it, too, was bent and twisted inwards. The rest of her corpus then folded. First it snapped in half and then ever smaller until all had vanished inside a compact, little mass of fleshy drippings and iron bits, leaving behind no trace of the woman that used to guard us and our expeditions for several years in the past.

This most powerful of black magic was of wholly unnatural origin, I was sure. Nothing inherent to our world could even remotely try to do anything such as that. If, indeed, what I saw was real and not an elaborate fancy. We could do nothing for her now.

In fright, Horace and I stumbled backwards and tumbled back into the pit that held the root of this evil. My heart raced with quickened blood. The adrenaline almost bursting out of my pores. With shaky, sweat soaked hands I stood up, intent on fleeing madly into the everdark of the ruins. In my trembling consciousness it mattered not whence I went. I knew that I could only die. But if I died at the hands of one of the blighted, I crazily told myself in drunken equilibrium, such a fate would be a better option as opposed to what I had just bore witness to.

But all was lost when out of every corridor , every hallway and every chamber poured the malign shapes of these monsters. The remaining six wailingly approaching me and Horace. An eighth shadow barely visible in the distance holding a staff with a mounted gem in hand. There was nothing we could do to stop them.

In a last resort effort, to save myself and Horace from suffering such a fate, I ripped Horace's pickaxe from his ice cold palms and brutally hacked into the great stone that fell from the sky so many days ago. An unbearable crying answered my brutish assault. But I ceased not. In hopelessness I continued to destroy the lurking evil to the best of my ability. I felt the entities flee into their pits as at last the gem broke.

The crystalline monolith shattered into pieces and revealed a writhing, wriggling black mass radiating with a pungent odour of death, decay and filth. It reeked just as if one would when decomposing alive. With a loud _thwack_ it crashed to the ground from inside the gem and then, quicker as my pickaxe could strike it, slithered into the cyclopean entombments along with the black ghosts. It left no trace.

XV

How we escaped our ruin I am not certain. We didn't destroy the blight. Nor did we eradicate the blighted or whatever things crept in the abyss. But I think we've weakened them, giving us the time we need to collect our thoughts. Their retreat into the cold recesses of Ayleid ancestry a faint glimmer of hope. Maybe all is not lost.

As I sit here and write all of this down, I'm still unable to get a firm grasp of it. Of what happened. Everything that took place up to this point bends my shaken mind. Likewise, I can not tell what the shuffling, morphing black mass was that wriggled and slid its way into the crypt. All I can say for certain is that Horace and I are lucky to still be alive. Albeit who knows for how long. Both of us are afflicted, after all.

All of this happened four weeks ago. In all this time, I managed to hide my sickness by perpetually drinking various remedies. But I can feel how it weakens me day by day. I am deathly afraid to brace the outside at night in fear of the vile stars shining down on me with contempt. In fear of yet more of these monoliths falling from the sky. But perhaps we could delay the process somehow.

We both collected our bearings after the things dispersed and traveled back to Leyawiin without further incident. I managed to avoid answering numerous inquiries in respect to my health by telling tall tales of great pilgrimage and how much it has worn on me. None may yet know the truth. None but you.

When we arrived, we settled down in the Lodge again to return to our studies to the best of our abilities. Horace skimmed over countless books whereas I took to formulating this epistle to be delivered to you. But even so, our progress is very slow for our bodies are broken past the point of mending.

I can hear Horace vomit and retch with repulsion just in the other room. His condition worsens. I, too, feel incredibly squeamish. We will all perish in the end. Every single one of us. But not in vain, for I'll ensure this letter reaches you, my old friend. I deeply hope that my accounts have convinced you of the severity of the situation. The fiends have been driven back for now, certainly. But I fear they will yet return. And when they do, we must be ready, lest Cyrodiil withers and dies like a drained flower. At least for now I'm safe. When I'm done, I will send Horace to deliver this letter. Maybe you know a way to cure him. I am much too weak for the journey to Anvil but Horace is still strong enough and may be saved.

Please, I beg you. Send notices, rouse the townsfolk, pass word around. We need heroes down there to deal with this disastrous catastrophe before it gets out of hand! I can't guarantee I'm still alive when this letter reaches you. But I can guarantee that, should you not listen, we all are destined to be flung into the yawning void or walk Nirn as crystalline perversions of existence.

_In frightful anticipation,_

_Yagir Ferenis_


	7. Epilogue

And through the city gates stumbled the squeamish silhouette of a particularly ragged and battered Nord. He held a queer envelope in his trembling hands, besmeared with unmentionable fluids, its surface already rippled from the moisture of his cold hands.

His crooked gait and broken countenance told of grievous affliction, accentuated by a deathly pallor, earning him queer looks of conspicuous disdain among the citizens. Unsettled by his obvious illness, the populace of this town with a harbour on the province's southern tip avoided him, giving him a wide berth as he carried himself over to the sinister mansion to his left with considerable difficulty.

His heavy and indubitably challenged breathing echoed amidst the general silence that ensued as all eyes followed his every step. Dragging his burning feet along the cobblestone road, he at last made it to the front door of the house with the withering garden. He managed to knock twice before his encumbered arm holding the letter sunk down again, powerless against the gravitational pull. The door creakingly opened and an old man met his tired gaze. An aged Imperial whom Yagir said to deliver the letter to. But before the Nord could hand over the parchment, he collapsed to the floor and expired.

The city guard and local priest were quick to carry the body away, giving it some last rites before burying it in the town's crypt under the chapel. In the following days, the recipient of the epistle that was so ghastly bestowed unto him familiarized himself with its contents. On the fifth day he sat at his table and read the final paragraphs with increasing uneasiness until he sprung up and ran to the chapel in a mad hurry.

Meanwhile, under the shrine of Dibella, in the hitherto undisturbed sepulchre, the foreboding lustre of alien crystals dispersed the darkness and engulfed the underground space in a gay splendour. But the pulchritudinous appearance deceived those who are enchanted by its beautiful scintillation. For the versicolor incandescence held secrets blacker than the void's emptiness.

As the old man made efforts to persuade the priest to see the burial chambers, the first coffin of many would slide open ever so silently. The dust particles were thrown into disarray when the lid dropped to the ground and sent the luminous shards flying in its wake. The wooden entombment creaked under the weight of the undead hand that seized its edge for leverage out of its grave.

And as the opalescent body rose, a scholar in the Five Claws Lodge in Leyawiin completed his alchemical concoction he so secretively brewed over many days. He administered it to himself and his garb thereafter and knew that he had only one choice to keep it from spreading. With a clear, albeit lugubrious, resolve, he reminisced for but a moment of all which had transpired. He realized that there was only one thing left to do.

And when his thoughts rested in somber remembrance of his friends that he had lost, he looked at his hand and lit the flame.


End file.
